Angel
by xynad
Summary: LeoPika oneshot.I've lived my life selfishly, just so I won't have to hurt others with my own pain. Maybe, if he's here, I'd learn to heal. But just... maybe.


ANGEL

A/N: LeoPika oneshot. Hmm, forgive me for the possible OCness and sappiness. These are the very products of depression.

Everything in the night seemed to pass quite still. The skyscrapers that loomed all over the city stood motionless and all the lights in the city that never sleeps were turned off one by one as the gentle, midnight breeze whispered a lullaby. As the supposedly mild wind caressed the blonde's figure, bare hands came to creep up to his arms, defending him from the sudden cold that suddenly swept over. The breeze was supposed to comfort him; that was what he thought as he tried to avoid the stream of contemptuous thoughts that suddenly began to haunt him. It was supposed to soothe him, to calm him, and if possible even lull him to slumber by its sweet, melodic voice. But how come it appeared the other way around? The lullaby it was supposed to sing for him now became a requiem, as if played by some death orchestra. He long wanted it to stop but try as he would, it never will. It will continue to haunt him, awake or asleep. He closed his eyes as he stood by the hotel room's balcony, trying in vain to forget what the now howling wind was telling him.

But what made things worse was the empty, hollow feeling that stirred up in him everytime he tried to drift his thoughts to the only thing that ever mattered to him. Revenge. He could not help it but everytime it occurred to him, there would always be a maddening ache in his chest, perhaps brought by the pain he kept for all these years that he wanted to let out. Yes, despite the way he denied it, he wanted to let it all out; to scream and growl and tell the whole world what a coward he is for hiding in the blanket of revenge when all he wanted to do was to live a normal life. But that he didn't do. His damn pride is much too strong even for him to handle. He forced himself to believe that it was the sole purpose of his life, after all, wasn't it revenge that kept him alive and sane after years of lonely existence?

It was the only constant thing he had in mind, that no matter how many times the sea tosses and turns, it would always be there, burning inside of him. And nobody, not even his friends would know how painful it was to live with nothing else but revenge. Nobody would ever understand how he feels; unless they listen to his crying heart, they would never, ever have an idea how he feels. But despite the fact that he had killed two Ryodan members, despite the fact that he had sealed the Danchou's nen, it brought him no satisfaction. Wasn't he halfway towards his goal? But how come, how come he never felt at ease with himself? There would always be the familiar, empty feeling; stirring up loneliness even more that he couldn't share with anyone. Because no matter how hard they try, they would never understand.

Blood slowly flowed out of his thin, pale lips; his eyes all but open at the sudden action he had done. He didn't realize he had been biting his lips as on and on he tried to fight his way out of the pain that slowly dawned on him. Was fate really that cruel to let him live a life as complicated as the one he was living? He was tired, in more sense than one. He wanted to rest, but as much as his body seemed to beg for it, his heart refused to. Weary, cerulean eyes suddenly darted open at the slightest bit of movement behind him. He felt that the almost ethereal curtains were being parted open, accommodating the midnight breeze to enter the grand hotel room. He quickly turned around to see who was still awake at this ungodly hour, his position unchanging from a while ago. The wind suddenly blew, moving the curtains inwards thus allowing the blond to grace the all-too-familiar features of the person who was standing right in front of him. He could have been sure that an angel stooped down in front of him, as if to ease him of the burden that he had been carrying.

Warm, chocolate brown eyes met with tired blue ones and as if to honor the presence of the younger man, those eyes of brown suddenly changed from passive to gentle, which could have been a smile if it were the lips that took recognition. Silence passed through them as the blond stood still, transfixed at the sudden apparition that took place right in front of him. He stared at the other one for a heartbeat longer before the doctor broke the thick silence that enveloped the blond since a while ago.

"Kurapika?" came the doctor's calm, deep voice.

Slowly drifting his eyes, the younger man chose to face the sky instead. Upon hearing no reply, the older man closed the gap between them silently, as if he wasn't walking on foot but gliding with wings. He stood beside Kurapika, holding the cold railing with his strong hands. He looked at the silent young man to his right and saw a narrow stream of blood flowing from his lips. Leorio's eyebrows furrowed in deep concern as he reached out to touch the young Kuruta's face. His thumb gently wiped the red liquid that marred the boy's angelic face ever so slowly that it seemed as though he was stroking the most fragile china on earth.

"Are you alright?" Leorio asked.

Kurapika merely nodded, quickly lowering his hands from their sudden position and clenching them on his sides. He lowered his head so that the other wouldn't see what expressions took place in his otherwise emotionless face. He didn't know why he was being like this. Usually, he could've punched Leorio straight in the face for disturbing his privacy but somehow, he felt that he needed Leorio right beside him and it seemed that the other's presence brought him comfort.

Leorio moved his perfect, doctor's hands from the Kuruta's lower lip to caress Kurapika's cheeks. He knew very well what the other boy was doing outside the room at this late hour and he need not ask. The other wouldn't want him to meddle anyway so he contented himself to just holding him, despite the way he wanted to comfort the young boy.

"You sure?" he asked again. This time, the other spoke. "I just..." he voiced but he soon trailed off.

This made Leorio turn the Kuruta's face upwards, towards his. His brown eyes tried to look deeper unto the other man's eyes of blue and he saw nothing but an endless pool of sorrow. The young Kuruta saw a look of alarm in the depths of the other's eyes but that vision was soon blurred as the remaining energy he had left him, and all he could do was lean his head on the stronger man's chest to prevent himself from fainting. Leorio's hand that was on Kurapika's cheek quickly slid down to support the other, as he suddenly grew limp. Kurapika's golden head was in the doctor's chest, and his hands groped the other man's wrist for support. He tried to stand up but his body wouldn't cooperate so for the first time in years, he allowed the weaker side of him to reign even for just a short while.

All the emptiness he had been suppressing for years found its way to escape out of his fragile heart. It was too much for anybody to bear, most of all for a child like him who was supposed to enjoy life and not think of complicated plots in the weave of this cruel life. He could've tried to live normally if only he would allow himself to. But he wouldn't. He blamed himself for everything.

"You won't be able to forgive anybody, Kurapika, unless you forgive yourself first," came the doctor's voice that somehow seemed to have read his mind.

Kurapika tried to move but he couldn't. His energy slowly left him until he seemed to have no more left. Leorio, feeling the other's grasp loosen, carried the younger boy towards his bed. He didn't close the balcony door anymore for he felt that the wind outside would be much more consoling for the boy's sleep. Instead, he turned off the air conditioner and sat himself on a chair placed beside the young boy's bed.

Kurapika tried to open his eyes but he was far too weak to even do so. Instead, he forcedly curved his lips into a smile. The doctor's eyes softened upon seeing what the other offered him. It could have been a forced one but he was quite sure it was genuine; unlike the façade type he always showed them. He brushed a lock of golden hair from the other's forehead and whispered,

"I'll always be here,"

Those words pierced the younger one's heart deeply but he wished he could believe what he said. It was true; of course, the emptiness will not stop unless he begins to heal which is unlikely. He may have friends who care a great deal about him but he knew he had to live this life alone.

He was left alone to live.

And so he will be left alone to bleed.


End file.
